


Pac-Man Tattoo

by Hecate1412



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Boyf, Boyf friends, Depression, M/M, Pac-Man - Freeform, Sharpie Tattoos, nothing too graphic, riends, self harm mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecate1412/pseuds/Hecate1412
Summary: Michael’s pacman tattoo is drawn by Jeremy using sharpiesMichael furiously erasing the tattoo while singing Michael in the bathroomJeremy redraws the tattoobut is distracted by the cuts on Michael’s arm





	Pac-Man Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, so this was written on a post from tumblr posted by @that-fanboy-doe
> 
> the post is essentially the summary of the story. I hope you enjoy!  
> This is also self edited so sorry for any errors

It started as a joke one night when Michael and Jeremy were alone in the basement at the Mell house playing video games. Michael was coming off a sugar high and was a little out of it as the exhaustion from the day hit him and his ADHD medication began to wear off.

“We should get matching tattoos!” He yelled dramatically over the drone of the video game music. He fell back into the beanbag chair in a fit of giggles. Jeremy laughed too because he loved seeing Michael like this. Like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“We’re too young and we both know my dad would never sign off on that.”

“Yeah…my mom wouldn’t sign off on it either.” They sat there quietly, trying to think of a solution. It was obvious neither of them were against it, and they were already mocked and teased at school for being a couple when they weren’t so they doubted anything else could make it worse. Besides, Jeremy liked Christine. Jeremy had liked Christine for years now, and that was common knowledge across the masses just like the platonic-ness of Jeremy and Michael’s friendship.

“We could always draw them on,” which seemed stupid at first because it wouldn’t last as long, but Michael didn’t really care at the point. He stood up and walked across the room to his desk and pulled out a bag of colorful sharpies.

“I suck at drawing, but you do not. I think you should draw them on.” He dragged his beanbag chair across the floor so he was right next to Jeremy, and plopped the bag of permanent markers in his best friends lap, offering out his hand.

“Uh…What exactly should I be drawing?” Jeremy asked because that seemed to be the one thing they hadn’t thought about.

“I don’t know, something that represents us? Probably something that has to do with video games. Maybe a vintage video game, but it would have to be something people recognize because it would be annoying if people kept stopping to ask what it was.” They both thought about it quietly, before Jeremy snapped his fingers and smiled.

“I know just the thing.” He took Michael’s arm, uncapped the sharpie, and began to draw. Michael watched Jeremy, who was focusing so intently on making sure every line was perfect. He looked so carefree and happy, and Michael felt soft butterfly's form in his chest. He’d been focusing on Jeremy so much, and the feeling of his hand around his arm as he carefully drew the image, that he hadn’t actually looked at what was being drawn until it was almost done.

“Pac-Man?”

“It’s perfect, right? Good representation of us as nerds, and is easily recognizable so people shouldn’t ask too much.” Jeremy smiled up at him, and Michael felt his face go red.

“You’re the best, Jeremy,” he mumbled as he let his best friend finish the art. Michael didn’t have much confidence in his art skills, so when Jeremy finished with Michael’s arm he started drawing on his own. They laughed at the finished product and took pictures of it before returning to their game. Michael didn’t last much longer, his exhaustion finally catching up to him, and passed out mid race in the bean bag chair. Jeremy had to help him back up to his room and pulled out the usual supplies so he could set up camp right beside Michael’s bed.

As expected, they got crap for the drawn on tattoos the next day, but Michael was used to the teasing, and while Jeremy was used to it as well, he wasn’t as comfortable with it. Michael couldn’t blame him; Jeremy had always wanted to be more popular than he already was (which is to say popular in general cause neither boy was popular). Neither of them excelled at making friends and Michael was okay with that, but Jeremy obviously wanted a little more. Still, the taunting didn’t stop them from wearing their Sharpie tattoos with pride. Every week Jeremy would come over and they would reapply the ink when it faded.

It was like clockwork for them. Jeremy would come over on Sunday, they would hang out all day, and before he went home he would reapply the ink. They did this every Sunday until one day they didn’t. One day Jeremy didn’t come over. One day turned into another, and then a day turned into a week, and a week turned into weeks.

Michael, couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong. He couldn’t figure out why his best friend was ignoring him like they’d never been friends before in their life. He couldn’t figure out how to get his friend back. He tried--he tried so hard--but it’s like his best friend couldn’t see him. And then one day he could. And then everything made sense again. For one brief moment, Michael thought everything would be okay, but the moment passed and he was invisible again. Michael refused to give up though because he was stubborn.

Call it selfishness, call it worry, call it whatever, but Michael refused to believe anything attempting to separate him and Jeremy was a good thing. He couldn’t understand why Jeremy would willingly throw away everything they had for a chance to be popular. He just wanted his friend back, and he was stubborn and determined. He scoured the internet and the dark net until he found what he was looking for, then he went to the one place he hates most.

Michael had never been one for parties. He never got invited to them and he hated the crowds and the noise and all the drunk people and the smells. It was too much for him to handle sometimes and he didn’t like being there, but Jeremy was there, and Michael would do anything for Jeremy, so he went. He snuck in and spent a majority of the night searching for his best friend, but he quickly became overwhelmed and retreated to the bathroom to try to escape everything.

He wasn’t expecting to find Jeremy in the bathroom, but part of him was happy to see him; happy and hurt. He confronted him and he wanted to yell and scream, but just seeing Jeremy made his heart race. But then he started talking. He told Jeremy what he’d learned, and he was worried. He didn’t want his best friend to get hurt. He wanted to protect his best friends because….because he loved Jeremy and he would do anything for him. But Jeremy didn’t understand. Jeremy thought Michael was Jealous. Jeremy left, but he said something before he left.

Michael had been called a loser before. He’d been a called a lot of things before, but he’d never been called a loser by his best friend. It froze him, made everything feel as cold as ice. It broke his heart. It hurt. God, it hurt. Everything hurt and the tears stung his eyes as he screamed at nothing. He slid to the floor, wishing that the world would just stop, not sure what to do with the pain that was blooming in his chest. And it didn’t help when he looked down and saw the Pac-Man tattoo on his wrist.

Jeremy might not have been coming around to redraw the image, but Michael had been tracing it over so it wouldn’t fade. Now it was just a reminder. It was a reminder that the boy he loved didn’t care about him anymore. Jeremy didn’t want or need him anymore. He was popular now! He’d moved on, and that fake tattoo was just a reminder of everything Michael had just lost. He wanted it _gone._

He tried rubbing it off, licking his fingers and scraping it off, but it didn’t do much. He tried to wipe it off with water and a rag, but it only smeared the colors around. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. Michael wanted it gone. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to be reminded of what it had meant. He needed it to be covered, and he searched around the bathroom until he found something that could do it.  
It wasn’t much later when someone came pounding on the door screaming fire. Michael debated moving, but the door was kicked open and in ran Dustin Kropp who grabbed Michael by the collar and yanked him out of the bathroom. Everyone was in too much of a panic to notice the blood covering his left forearm.

Michael didn’t leave his house for the entire weekend, and his arm hurt, but the hurt on his arm eased the hurt in his heart so he didn’t stop. At first, he just picked at the scabs, it helped. It hurt. Eventually, that wasn’t enough and he could still see the sharpie on his arm. It had been there for so long he was starting to believe it had actually been permanently stained into his arm. He still wanted it gone. If he covered it with cuts it would go away, right?

He didn’t talk to anyone at school when he finally managed to get himself out of bed. He’d stayed home Monday, but his mother had forced him Tuesday. He kept his sleeves down and had wrapped a bandage around his cuts to stop himself from scratching at them. The last thing he needed was to start bleeding at school…not that anyone would notice. Michael didn’t actually have friends. He had Jeremy, but Jeremy found something better and…

Michael felt his throat close up whenever he saw Jeremy in the halls. He would immediately turn away and find a different route to class. He knew Jeremy couldn’t see him, but Michael could see Jeremy and he’d tried to sit in class with him but ended up running out of the room halfway through the period. He camped out under the stairwell on the west side of the building because no one ever used it. He camped out there for every class he shared with Jeremy.

It wasn’t long before anything that had to do with Jeremy made Michael hurt on the inside, and half the stuff he owned reminded him of Jeremy. He hadn’t played video games for weeks because every time he tried he was reminded that his player two wasn’t around. Half the stuff in his room left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, and a strong desire to go camp out in the bathroom again. This time though--this time he camped out in his back yard, lighting a fire in the pit and carrying out a bucket of mementos he never wanted to have to look at again.

It was almost therapeutic and part of him felt a little better. It was like burning off a cancer that was had taken over his body. It was slowly draining his life and he was finally curing himself of it. He felt better until Mr. Heere showed up. pants less. Mr. Heere who was accusing him of loving his son. He was encouraging him to not give up on him just yet. The entire time he was talking he had a death grip on his left wrist and the pain washed up his arm and spread into the rest of the body. It kept him focused.

Michael tried to explain they weren’t friends anymore, but Mr. Heere was determined, and as much as Michael hurt, deep down he knew he still wanted his best friend back. Even if he didn’t get his best friend back, he didn’t want Jeremy to end up like his friend’s brother who was now in a mental hospital. So he agreed to help. He would find a way. He already knew a way.

Everything went down the night of the play. Michael tried to save him. A lot happened and the entire cast got squiped, but they succeeded. Well, Jeremy succeeded. Jeremy made Christine drink the kill code; the Mountain Dew Red. It had a chain reaction and deactivated everyone’s squip and there were a lot of ambulances that arrived at the school that night.

Michael stayed by Jeremy’s bed the entire time he was in the hospital, leaving only because he was still required to go to school and his mom would chew him out if he didn’t. But other than that, he was almost always by Jeremy’s bed waiting for his friend to wake up. He didn’t know if Jeremy would even want to see him, but he needed to know. He needed to know, now that everything was over, if Jeremy would ever even want to be friends again. Michael…Michael still wanted to be friends. It would be a long time before he could trust Jeremy like he had before, until they could be as close as they had before, but Michael still loved his best friend. Michael still cared about Jeremy. Michael would still do anything for him.

It was a long time before anything returned to any semblance of normal. It was a while before Jeremy recovered from all the phycological trauma the squip put him through. It was a while before Jeremy felt comfortable sharing anything about what happened. It was a long time before Jeremy stopped apologizing every five minutes for everything that happened. Michael was there for all of it. Michael supported him and comforted him through all of it.

Michael always wore long sleeves.

It wasn’t until the summer before senior year that Jeremy suggested they redraw the Pac-Man tattoos. Jeremy was doing better. He could smile and be happy, and Michael felt comfortable around him, but as soon as he suggested that, he felt himself go cold. Michael had been careful. Michael had been hiding the scars on his wrist meticulously because he didn’t want Jeremy to know. He didn’t want Jeremy to realize he’d hurt himself over everything that had happened. They’d finally sort of gotten back to normal and Michael didn’t want to ruin it, but if he said no, Jeremy would ask why.

Michael tried to offer up his right arm instead, but Jeremy refused.

“Dude, we’ve always done them on the non-dominant hand.” Michael looked nervous. The cuts had scared over and they were pale and fading, but they were still there. They were still obvious, but for a lack of a better excuse, he offered up his left hand. Jeremy pushed up the sleeve, and Michael flinched. The scars weren’t as sensitive as they’d been when they were first healing, and he’d massaged and broken up a majority of the scar tissue, but they still hurt sometimes.

He could feel Jeremy go stiff from where he was holding his arm. Michael didn’t look at him. The scars were uneven and close together and made with the intent of covering up and erasing what had been there before.

“M-Michael.”

“Don’t.” He tugged his arm free. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” He still wouldn’t look at Jeremy, but Michael could feel his gaze on him. “Michael, please. Was that…did you do that because of me?” He took a shaky breath his mind teleporting him back to that night of the party. He teared up slightly but willed himself to stay calm. A while ago they’d agreed to tell each other the truth, and Michael didn’t want to lie to Jeremy anymore.

“Yeah, it was. I just…” he ran his thumb over the grooves and sighed. “I couldn’t get the sharpie off, it was like, stained into my arm or something and looking at it hurt. So I tried to---and it worked sort of.”

“Michael—”

“Don’t apologize!” he snapped, but instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh so you can apologize but I can’t?” He sounded annoyed. Jeremy crawled over to Michael’s beanbag chair, cupping his head in his hands to force him to not look away. “Michael, I will never stop apologizing for what I put you through. You did nothing wrong, and I made you suffer and that is not something I will ever be able to forgive myself for, at least not anytime soon. I’m sorry that my actions resorted to you hurting yourself, and I’m sorry that you've thought that you have to hide this from me all this time. Michael, I love you. I love you so much. You’ve been here for me and supported me through all my shit even though I don't deserve it. I don’t even deserve to be in the same room as you, but you stuck with me. Let me do the same for you okay?”  
Michael felt the tears return as he stared into Jeremy’s blue eyes. His best friend looked like he was about to cry too.

“I love you,” Michael said softly, “And I’m sorry for keeping this from you.” Jeremy kissed his forehead and pulled him into a hug.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Michael. Just know that I love you and I’m here for you now and I’m never going to let you feel as awful as you did last fall ever again.” Michael returned the hug, burying his head in his shoulder and letting Jeremy’s familiar vanilla scent calm him down. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but Jeremy was the first to pull away. “Do you still want me to draw the Pac-Man sharpie tattoo on your arm?”

“Sure,” He offered up his left wrist again, and Jeremy fetched the sharpies. Michael studied Jeremy as he drew, like he’d always done before, but this time was different. He was still focused, but he wasn’t as carefree as he’d been before. He didn’t stick his tongue out a little while he focused on the lines, and he hesitated as he drew over the scars. About halfway through the picture, Jeremy started crying.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. God, Michael, I’m so so so sorry.” He curled into himself like he usually did when he was upset. Michael smiled softly, but pulled Jeremy into his lap, hugging him closely as he wept, rocking him back and forth and humming softly into his ear. The sharpie tattoo could wait until they were both okay. Things were far from back to normal, but they were getting there, slowly and surely. It’s really all either of them could hope for.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to kudo or comment, and thanks for reading!


End file.
